


Arguing with Rivers

by Charmsilver



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Badass Rebecca Barnes Proctor, But Bucky Lives Anyway, Coming Out, Cryogenics, Fluff, Getting Together, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of historical homophobia, Steve gets the Best of Both Worlds, The Winter Soldier Does not Exist, supportive friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-19 21:09:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17609030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charmsilver/pseuds/Charmsilver
Summary: On a routine mission in the snowy Alps, Steve comes face to face with the one person he never expected to see again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is all just very self-indulgent. I love Modern Bucky Barnes/Captain America Steve Rogers, but I can't bear the thought of Steve growing up without Bucky by his side.
> 
> So... this. 
> 
> Yes, the entire fic is already written so you need not fear. Subscribe to your heart's content! I'll be posting chapters once a day for the next week or so.

_Here when I say “I never want to be without you,”_

_somewhere else I am saying_

_“I never want to be without you again.” And when I touch_

_you_

_in each of the places we meet_

_in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying_

_and resurrected._

_When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life,_

_in each place and forever_.

 

Bob Hicok, _Plus Shipping_

 

 

 

It was not a place Steve ever wanted to return to.

 

The snow-swept Alps were the same, but the villages were different – bigger, busier, and entirely intact.

 

The train tracks were still there. Steve saw them from the jet as they skimmed familiar passes, heading for the last HYDRA hideout and their mission finale.

 

It was going to be an easy one: early detection squads had confirmed that there were no life signs in the dilapidated outpost. All the same, Steve felt uneasy as they flew between the white peaks; this place held no good memories for him, and he had never intended to come back.

 

“What’s on your mind?” Nat, as always, never missed anything.

 

Steve offered her a half smile. “Just old memories,” he said, gripping his shield a little tighter.

 

“Touchdown in five,” said Tony’s voice from the cockpit.

 

Nat didn’t say anything more; she just watched Steve with an expression of mild curiosity until the jet had safely landed on a natural rocky outcrop. Steve led the way into the icy chill; he heard Tony swear as the cold hit him. “One sec, I’m suiting up,” Tony said into the comms, “I knew climate control would be useful one day.”

 

Nat, to her credit, appeared completely unfazed by the air temperature. Not that this surprised Steve; she was tougher than anyone he’d ever met, superheroes included.

 

“We go in quietly,” Steve said above the whistling wind. “Assume nothing. We don’t know what’s in there.”

 

“You seem a little tense, Cap. Something wrong?”

 

Steve ignored Tony’s probing question and concentrated on the door in front of him. It was falling apart, literally. Whatever this base was used for, it had never been particularly secure, though the way it was built into the mountainside camouflaged it well. So it was more of a hideout than a military outpost, perhaps.

 

Steve prised the door open easily, though the hinges had rusted almost into nothing. Inside the air was dank and stale. It certainly had the feeling of abandonment. They stepped inside and Tony shone his torch through the main corridor.

 

It was empty.

 

“Nat, find whatever information you can. Tony, take the left wing. I’ll take the right. We’ll meet back here in thirty minutes.”

 

“On it.” Nat immediately melted into the shadows.

 

“Catch ya in a few,” Tony said as he zipped through the nearest door.

 

Steve took the closest right and headed down another corridor, placing explosives ever twenty feet or so. Compared to other bases, this one was small, and Steve finished quickly.

 

“I’m all done here,” Tony said just as Steve placed his last device.

 

“Me too. Nat, have you found anything?”

 

“Negative, Cap. Except…” her voice trailed off.

 

“What is it?” Steve said sharply, his heartbeat picking up a notch.

 

There was a momentary silence, then Nat again: “A door, and a staircase going down. I’m checking it out.”

 

“Hey! Wait for us,” Tony said indignantly.

 

Steve began to run. He didn’t know why, just that this felt like it could be important, or dangerous. Or both. “Nat, stay where you are.”

 

“Too late for that,” she said, half amused. Then, “Shit.”

 

Steve started to sprint. He turned a corner and found the doorway and flew down the stairs. He could hear Tony behind him.

 

They emerged into a chamber, Nat just ahead and apparently uninjured. It was quiet except for a low humming noise. “Nat?” Steve said, slowing to a walk. “What is it?”

 

Nat turned to him and the blood was gone from her face. Her expression was unreadable. “Steve…” she said.

 

“Hey,” Tony had reached whatever it was Nat saw. Something in the centre of the room – a sort of steel capsule that was emitting the humming sound Steve could hear. “Is that…?”

 

“Steve,” Nat said, and her voice betrayed her anxiety. “This could be a trap.”

 

But Steve was already walking towards the object, heart hammering for reasons he didn’t know. Up close he saw there was glass in the top, frosted with time but still translucent. He peered inside.

 

And his heart stopped.

 

“No,” he said. “It can’t be.”

 

But it was. Lying still, frozen in an ancient cryo chamber, his face peaceful in sleep. Steve’s childhood best friend.

 

Bucky Barnes.

 

*

 

“Steve, this could be a trap.” Natasha’s voice was as distant as words through water. Steve touched his hand to the smeared glass and stared at the face in front of him.

 

“Neutralise all the explosives,” he ordered.

 

“ _Steve_ ,” Nat grabbed his arm. “Think this through. How do you know that’s really him? We need to be careful.”

 

But Steve shook her off. “There’s no one here. This place is abandoned, has been for decades. Look.” He swiped his finger over the capsule. It came away covered in a thick layer of dust. He showed it to Natasha, then Tony. “Neutralise the explosives. Now.”

 

“Cap…”

 

“NOW!”

 

“All right, all right. Hey, JARVIS, do what the captain says, will you?” There was a pause, then Tony shrugged. “It’s done. Now what?”

 

“How’s this thing powered?” Steve circled the machine; by some miracle of technology the pod was still working; Bucky was frozen inside it, and Steve didn’t let himself think about what that might mean.

 

Tony was silent for a minute, then he gasped. “Oh, that’s good. That’s, wow, that’s impressive.” He put his hand on the pod and patted it affectionately. “You are _way_ ahead of your time.”

 

“What is it?” Steve said, unable to prevent impatience bleeding into his voice.

 

“Solar,” Tony stated.

 

Behind him, Steve could sense Natasha was surprised. “Underground?” she asked, disbelieving.

 

“Yup. Look at these.” He pointed to a thick rope of cords that ran from the pod and up the walls, into the ceiling. “Somewhere up there is a solar panel; an early twentieth century solar panel but a solar panel all the same.”

 

“But that’s…”

 

“Impossible. The technology wasn’t around this early.” Tony shrugged. “Except that apparently it was. And it appears it’s been keeping Steve’s old pal here alive for literally decades.” He was practically vibrating with the desire to take the thing apart and inspect it, Steve could tell.

 

“Can we move it?” Steve asked.

 

Tony retracted his mask. “No,” he said. “Not like this. This tech’s impressive but even the slightest movement could cause a malfunction.”

 

“So how do we get him out?”

 

Natasha tensed. “Is that a good idea?”

 

Steve knelt beside the pod and touched the cool metal. “There’s a chance Bucky’s still alive in there.”

 

“There’s only one way to get him out,” Tony said, peering into the glass. “We have to wake him up.”


	2. Chapter 2

It took Tony the better part of an hour to figure out how to operate the cryo pod without killing Bucky, but he summoned Steve, who had been pacing anxiously, when he was ready. “Ok, Cap, all I have to do is flip this switch and it’ll start the process. You sure you wanna do this? Your buddy here’s been asleep for a long time. Even if he’s fine in mind and body, he’ll be waking up in a different century and he won’t know it. It’s gonna be a bit of a shock.”

“To put it mildly,” Nat chimed in. 

Steve couldn’t deny it. He could still remember the day he came out of the ice, how his entire world had been tipped upside down. The panic, and the dread that crashed down on him as he realised he had left everyone behind.

But Steve knew Bucky; he knew he’d want to live, no matter what.

“Do it,” he said. “And then leave. Both of you.”

Tony flipped the switch, causing the pod to light up and emit a louder hissing noise than before. With one final glance from Steve, both Tony and Natasha left the room, though Steve knew they were only just outside the door.

The pod came to life slowly. Steve didn’t understand the science but it looked like Bucky was being thawed from inside first. After several long minutes the pod doors opened a slit, releasing a cloud of vapour. When that cleared, they opened further, exposing Bucky to the outside air. 

At first nothing happened. Bucky was naked except for a pair of thin trousers, and his skin was sickly pale. One of his arms was bandaged and bloody. He did not move, he did not even twitch, but slowly some colour returned to his face. Steve stood watch above him, noting every change, his heart in his throat. 

After an eternity of waiting, Bucky’s eyelids began to flutter. He groaned and grimaced and finally opened his eyes. 

The first thing out of his mouth was “Steve?”

And then, “The train?”

And that’s when Steve started to cry. “Hey, Buck,” he said gently. “How do you feel?”

“Hungover,” Bucky said, wetting his cracked lips. “Cold.” He tried to reach up but he wasn’t in control of his body yet and he couldn’t lift his arm. “Don’t cry,” he said. “Steve.”

Steve removed his jacket and covered Bucky with it. “C’mon,” he said, swiping the tears from his eyes. “Let’s get you out of there.” He helped Bucky to sit, then lifted him easily out of the chamber and onto the floor. Bucky slumped back against the wall, still shivering. 

“Did we get Zola?” Bucky slurred, his head lolling back against the concrete.

Steve tucked his jacket in tighter around Bucky’s shoulders. “Yeah, we got him.”

“S good,” Bucky said. 

Steve turned his attention to Bucky’s arm. The wound was bad; it had barely been treated and he’d been frozen with the injury still fresh. That meant for Bucky it had only been a few days since the train. As Bucky warmed up, the blood began to flow again, staining the already dark bandages. He needed medical attention immediately.

“Tony, Natasha,” Steve spoke into the comms. “He’s injured; we need to get him out of here right now.”

Bucky was almost unconscious again when Steve’s companions hurried back into the room. Steve hoisted him into his arms and stood. Nat flanked him and peered at the wounded arm. “He was frozen like that?”

“Bastards,” Tony spat.

Steve concentrated on Bucky’s warmth. “Let’s go,” he said.

Natasha led the way and soon they emerged into the frigid alpine air. Mercifully the jet was nearby. Inside, Steve lay Bucky down on a stretcher and threw another blanket over him. As they flew, Bucky half woke and caught Steve’s eye. “Are we flying?” he asked groggily.

Steve brushed the hair out of his face and nodded. “Yeah, Buck.”

“Where we goin’?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“Hm,” Bucky closed his eyes again. “My arm hurts,” he said, grimacing in pain. 

“I know. We’re gonna get you some help. Just hang in there.”

“Yeah, ok,” Bucky agreed; the full pain of his wound hadn’t registered yet, it seemed. But Steve was watching the blood drip from the bandages to the floor and knew it was only a matter of time.

“Does this thing go any faster?” 

*

They touched down at SHIELD’s European HQ two hours later; Bucky was mostly still out of it, but as they wheeled him into the building he was beginning to feel the pain from his injury more acutely. His eyes watered with pain and he panted quick staccato breaths. Steve stayed beside the stretcher until they arrived at the theatre doors. Then Natasha held him back. “They’ll look after him, Steve,” she said gently. “There’s nothing you can do now.”

The surgery lasted more than four hours, and by the time a white-coated doctor emerged from the room, Steve was utterly exhausted from waiting. Still, he jumped out of his seat. “How is he?” he demanded.

“He’s stable,” the surgeon told him. “His arm has sustained massive trauma; we did the best we could to save it but only time will tell if it’s worked. We had to operate on his hip too, and almost all of his ribs were broken. Whatever happened to him, it caused huge damage, internally and externally. It’s a miracle he survived.”

Steve’s breath left him in a whoosh. He felt Nat’s hand on his shoulder, tugging him back into his seat. “Thank you,” she said for him.

“You can see him soon, but he’ll be out of it for a while.”

Steve fought back tears while Nat pressed her palm into his back. “I can’t believe it,” he said.

Nat hummed. “Sounds like he’s gonna be ok,” she said.

Steve nodded. “How the hell he survived that fall… if I’d known I would have gone back for him that day. I’d have looked for him in the snow. But we thought for sure he was dead. How could anyone survive that?” 

“It’s not your fault,” Nat said, sensing Steve’s thoughts. “He’s alive, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Steve let his head hit the wall. “But his family. He had parents, you know. A sister.”

“Maybe he still does.”

But Steve shook his head. “I checked when I came out of the ice. They’re gone. All of them.”

“He has you.”

Steve lifted his head and smiled a half smile. He thought about Bucky, how he’d lain in that cryo chamber for decades while the world went on around him. Like Steve, Bucky wouldn’t recognise the world he woke up in. There was so much Steve needed to tell him, about the war, and the Avengers, and all the things Bucky could never have imagined even in his wildest dreams. 

Bucky always had a thing about the future: the flying cars, floating airports and space travel. Whenever Steve caught him reading it was always a science fiction novel. It was the possibilities, Bucky said. 

The unlimited potential of a time that hadn’t happened yet.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve was there when Bucky woke up.

They’d put him in the corner room with the exposed brickwork and industrial style décor. It didn’t exactly scream the 21st century, although Bucky still squinted at the light fixtures when he opened his eyes.

Then he turned his bleary gaze to Steve.

“Hey,” he croaked.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said, pulling his chair a little closer. “How’re you feeling?”

Bucky made a face. “Perfect,” he lied. “Where’m I?”

“We’re in France,” Steve said. “Paris.”

This made Bucky sit up a little in bed. “France?” he repeated. “But the…”

“We’re safe,” Steve assured him. He curled a hand around Bucky’s good shoulder. “I swear.”

Bucky peered up at him, obviously confused and still groggy from the pain medication, but entirely trusting. “Zola?” he inquired. “What happened?”

Steve turned his head away for a minute. He’d gone through this scene in his head so many times but now that the moment had arrived he didn’t know how to say it.

“Steve?” Bucky’s hand touched Steve’s knee. “You all right?”

“I’m ok,” Steve said. He turned back to Bucky and smiled. “It’s good to see you, Bucky.”

Bucky’s smile was lopsided but completely genuine. “Me too, pal,” he said, and his fingers squeezed Steve’s knee. “Now are you gonna tell me what the heck happened after the train or do I have to wrestle it out of you?”

This was it.

Steve took a breath in.

“The thing is,” he began, then he stopped and sighed before continuing. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just gonna say it. It’s not 1945 anymore.”

“What?”

Steve winced. He forced himself to look Bucky in the eye, determined to ward off the loneliness about to engulf his friend. “Bucky, I’m real sorry about this. It’s 2019. You were captured by Hydra and cryogenically frozen for over seventy years.”

Bucky didn’t believe him, Steve could tell. He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s real funny.” But even as he said it he was beginning to have doubts; it must have been the look on Steve’s face. “You’re kidding, right?”

Steve shook his head. He picked up the newspaper from the adjacent table and showed in to Bucky.

All of the colour drained from Bucky’s face and he grabbed the newspaper, glaring at the date. “How is that possible?” he said. “I don’t… I don’t understand. What about…” he trailed off and Steve witnessed the exact moment when Bucky realised the full implications of his new reality.

“My family,” he said.

Steve felt tears at the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry, Buck,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

Bucky began to move; he tried to swing his legs out of the bed, to run away, but Steve stopped him and pushed him back. “You’re injured, you can’t go anywhere. Please, Bucky, you need to stay here.”

That’s when Bucky began to cry. He fell against Steve’s chest and sobbed. “It can’t be true. Tell me it’s not true,” he begged.

Steve held him tightly. “I have so much to tell you,” he murmured into Bucky’s hair. “So much.”

“But you’re here,” Bucky croaked. “How are you here? Am I dreaming? Tell me I’m dreaming. Please, Steve.”

“It’s not a dream,” Steve told him firmly. “I was frozen too, but in a different way. We won the war, but I wasn’t there to see it either.” Steve gripped Bucky tighter than ever. “I missed you,” he said quietly. “I missed you, Bucky. But I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry we didn’t look for you. We thought you were dead. You fell… we never imagined you could have survived.”

Bucky shook in Steve’s arms; his bewilderment was palpable, his pain also.

He crumpled the newspaper in his fist.

*

In the days that followed Bucky was subdued and grieving. Steve stayed by his side as often as he could, stepping out only to shower and find food. Bucky did all that the nurses asked of him, but he spoke barely a word to anyone, not even Steve. His arm was healing, albeit slowly, and the doctors believed he would be able to keep it, though Bucky appeared disinterested in this information.

For five days Bucky was no more than a ghost of his former self.

And then Tony walked through the door.

Steve had been reading, but he stood quickly when Tony entered. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his tone probably a little more forceful than necessary.

Tony feigned offence, then rolled his eyes. “Hey, Cap. Barnes.” He nodded at Bucky, who was staring intently at Tony’s face, a furrow between his brows.

“Do I know you?” he asked.

Tony blinked and turned to Steve, eyebrows raised.

Steve gestured towards him for Bucky’s benefit. “Bucky,” he said. “This is Tony. Tony Stark.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Stark?” he said.

“The one and only,” said Tony, shooting him a grin. “It’s good to meet you, Sergeant. I believe you knew my dad?”

Bucky looked to Steve, then back to Tony. “Howard… you’re his son?”

“Funny how that works, isn’t it?” At that moment Tony’s phone chimed. He pulled it from his pocket and squinted at the message. “Sorry, kids, I’ve gotta vamoose. Nice to meet you, Barnes, and welcome to the twenty-first century.” He clapped Steve on the shoulder on his way out and Bucky watched him with wide-eyed astonishment.

When he had gone he turned to Steve. “Stark had a son?”

Steve nodded. “It was news to me too. They’re a lot alike. Tony’s arguably even more brilliant. And even more of an ass.”

For the first time since waking, Bucky laughed. “No kidding.”

Steve grinned.

Bucky’s grin faded a little. “And what was that thing he had? The little device? Looked like a…” he frowned. “I don’t know.”

Steve dragged his chair closer to Bucky’s bed and pulled out his own mobile. It had a chip in the corner where he’d dropped it on the pavement, but was otherwise intact. He handed it to Bucky. “This,” he said, pressing the home button to make the screen light up. “Is a phone.”

Bucky stared at the screen for a few seconds, amazed. When it went dark he blinked and looked to Steve, questions blazing in his eyes. “That doesn’t look like a phone,” he said.

“They’re more like computers, actually,” Steve said before he could catch himself.

Bucky’s frown deepened. “That doesn’t look like a computer either.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

“So what does it do?” Bucky took the phone from Steve’s hand and weighed it in his palm.

“It…” Steve paused. “Pretty much anything.” He took the phone back and unlocked it. “I mainly use it to make calls,” he said. “You can call anyone in the world, anywhere, any time.” He pointed to the messaging app. “Or you can send a message, which is called a text. You just type in what you want to say and send it.” Steve opened up a message to Tony and began to type.

_Bucky says hello._

He hit send and the message went through. Almost immediately Tony sent a reply:

_You two are so cute._

Steve rolled his eyes and Bucky squinted. “Cute?” he asked, and then: “Fuck.” His head hit the pillows behind him and he shut his eyes. “That’s insane. How does that work?”

“I have no idea,” Steve admitted. “But nearly everyone on the planet has one of these.”

“Wow,” Bucky said.

“They do other things too,” Steve added, hoping he wasn’t pushing it too far.

Bucky cracked one eye open. “More?”

Steve nodded. He opened the locator app and showed Bucky the map. “Like this. You can use it to show where you are, or anywhere in the world.” He zoomed out to expose the entire view of the world, then zoomed back in to their location. “And you can put in an address of a place you want to go and it will tell you how to get there. Getting lost is an experience of the past.”

Bucky snorted, but he was clearly entranced.

“And there’s music,” he continued. “And these things called podcasts which are like radio shows, and a clock, and a calendar, and the weather…” He stopped short of anything involving the internet. That would be for another time.

“All of that in the palm of your hand,” Bucky said with quiet wonder in his voice.

“Yeah,” Steve said, relieved to see the softening around Bucky’s eyes, the loosening of his shoulders. “I’ll show you more later, if you want?”

Bucky nodded, suddenly exhausted. “So this is the future,” Bucky murmured sleepily.

Steve hummed. “More or less.”

He pulled the blanket up to Bucky’s chin and held his shoulder, gently, for just a moment. Bucky shifted minutely towards Steve’s touch, then his breathing evened out and he was asleep.

*

The recovery was difficult.

The doctor’s had reduced the amount of painkillers Bucky was taking, and his arm soon became a constant source of frustration and agony. Even so, Bucky was healing faster than any of them thought possible.

Steve knew they had experimented on Bucky in Azzano, but Bucky’d never talked about it. Now Steve began to wonder.

To distract him from the pain, Steve brought in a few things he thought might interest him: a digital camera, colour photographs, some of Bucky’s favourite sci-fi novels, and a book on the end of World War II.

“It’s the one I read,” Steve told him as he handed it over. “When I came out.”

Bucky flipped it over to read the back, then he opened it to a random page and skimmed a few paragraphs. “You’re in here,” he said, pointing to a sentence. “God,” he continued. “I can’t believe I missed all this.” He flicked to the index and then back to a specific page. Steve saw the title of the chapter on himself.

“ _America’s Greatest Weapon: how a boy from Brooklyn turned the tide of war_.” Bucky smirked. “Good to see you got the recognition you deserve, Steve.”

Steve shook his head, only half smiling. “There were so many others,” Steve said. “It wasn’t just me. I was a part of something bigger. We all did what we had to.”

Bucky nodded, looking thoughtful. “But you inspired them. You gave people hope, made them believe we could win.” Bucky opened up the page of colour plates and found the picture of Steve before the serum, his body too small for even the smallest of military uniforms. “Seems like yesterday,” Bucky sighed and a wistful look passed over his face, though it quickly turned sour. He let go of the book and it fell onto the bed. “I’m not sure I can read this,” he said quietly.

Steve understood. “It’s ok,” he said. “You don’t have to.”

“It’s still happening for me, you know?”

“I know.” Steve took the book and placed it on the table. “Do you want to ask me anything?”

Bucky was quiet for a few minutes, fiddling with a loose thread on the bedsheets. Then he said, “My family? What happened to them?”

Like a stone dropped into an icy river, Steve felt his heart sink. He looked away out the window, from which he could see the Parisian expanse spread out like a map. “Your dad died in ‘54,” Steve told him. “A stroke.” He gripped his own knees tightly. “Your mum lived into her eighties and died in her sleep. And your sister…” Steve didn’t know how to continue. Instead he pulled out his phone and opened up the Wikipedia page for Rebecca Barnes Proctor; he gave it to Bucky, who took it in a shaking hand.

“She achieved more than most,” Steve told him. “And she fought tooth and nail for justice. Many of the friends I’ve met since waking up were inspired by her.”

Bucky was reading with wide-eyed intent. By the time he’d finished the tears were coming thick and fast. “Becca,” he choked. “She always said she would be an engineer, that she’d never let anyone get in her way.” Bucky laughed through his tears. “She was so determined.”

When the tears wouldn’t stop Steve came in close; he gathered Bucky into his arms and held him there while he grieved.

“She didn’t have any children?” Bucky asked when he’d managed to recover his voice.

Steve shook his head. “But there are so many people out there who knew her, who loved her. I’m sure they would want to meet you, to tell you about her.”

Bucky nodded against Steve’s chest, the phone still open to an image of Becca’s smiling face, her wrinkles deep but the passion still obvious in the fire of her eyes.

*

Soon Bucky was strong enough to walk; his arm was healing well, his ribs had pieced themselves back together, and even the purplish bruising on his hip had faded to a dull yellow. Steve offered to take him on a tour of the facility and Bucky was quick to agree.

Steve rustled up a shirt and a pair of pants and helped Bucky dress himself. At first he was shaky on his feet.

“Guess I haven’t used these in a while,” he joked, referring to his legs.

Steve grinned. “I’m sure it’s just like riding a bicycle.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, concentrating on the steps out the door. Steve stood at his side, ready to catch him should he lose his balance, but that turned out to be hardly necessary. Bucky grew stronger with every step and soon he was out the door and smiling properly for the first time in weeks.

“Keep up, old man,” Bucky said as they strolled down the corridor of the medical wing.

There was a lot to take in from Bucky’s perspective. Even the interior design was alien to him, not to mention the many colour television screens, the computer at the front desk, the clothes worn by the members of staff.

Bucky was amazed by all of it, and where Steve had found it all overwhelming, Bucky seemed mostly fascinated.

But outside the medical wing things were far more hi-tech; they pushed their way through the double doors and stepped out onto the mezzanine above the lobby. Bucky stopped in his tracks immediately.

“What in the…”

In the centre of the room, suspended in mid-air, was a blue holographic globe which spun on its axis. Small red dots glowed on its surface, indicating the locations of other SHIELD facilities. This is what Bucky saw first.

“It’s called a hologram,” Steve explained.

Bucky stepped up to the barrier and held it; he surveyed the rest of the lobby, flicking from person to person, almost all of whom were using their mobile phones. “Wow,” he said. “This is nuts.”

“Is it what you imagined?” Steve asked, stepping up beside him.

Bucky shook his head. “No,” he said. “I never could have imagined this.”

Steve chuckled. “This is just the beginning,” he told him. “You’ve got a lot to catch up on. Hell, I’m still trying to catch up.”

Bucky was silent on the way back to the ward. Once back in his room, he sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his injured shoulder. Then he looked up at Steve.

“I don’t want to stay here anymore,” Bucky told him, and his voice held a familiar firmness that made Steve’s throat seize up. “I want to go home,” he continued. “Back to Brooklyn.”

Steve sat down next to him. “You’re safe here, Bucky.”

But Bucky shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. I mean…” he sighed, frustrated. “Hell, I’m bored out of my mind here. And you just said it yourself… there’s so much to see. I don’t wanna be cooped up here anymore.”

Steve understood. “Ok, Buck. We’ll arrange to have you discharged soon. You’re healing well, I’m sure the doctors will allow it.”

“No,” Bucky met Steve with a look of doubled-down determination. “I don’t want to stay here one more night. I’m getting out of here today; I’ll break the window if I have to.”

“But…”

“Since when did you care what the doctors thought anyway, Rogers?”

Steve made a face, but he had to admit:

Bucky had a point.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your comments and kudos so far <3

They flew out that night in the quinjet. That was another new experience for Bucky, since he couldn’t remember the flight back from the Alps. It was just the two of them; Nat and Tony had already returned to DC, so Steve set the jet to autopilot and showed Bucky the most important feature: the minibar.

This wasn’t Tony’s private jet, so the bar wasn’t equipped with the cute robots who would mix your drinks for you, although Steve was partially grateful for this fact, as they tended to do more spilling than pouring. 

Instead he made them each a gin and tonic.

Bucky watched, both impressed and amused.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you make a drink before,” he commented as Steve passed the glass over. He coughed when he took the first sip. “Christ, what is that? Fifty parts gin?”

Steve pretended to look guilty. “Sorry,” he said.

“Yeah, right,” Bucky said, taking another larger sip and groaning. “So,” he said after swallowing. “You woke up in the twenty-first century too.”

Steve nodded. “Guess it’s a club now.”

“What was it like for you?” Bucky asked. 

For a second Steve was back there, standing in the street, the lights and sounds of New York City hitting him like a barrage of bullets. “Awful,” he said honestly. “They tried to break it to me gently, set up this whole fake room with forties décor and a Dodgers game on the radio from 1941.” Steve huffed. “Remember? We went together. That’s what made me realise something was wrong. I died in 1945, but the game was live. I freaked out, smashed through the walls and ended up in the middle of New York. But it wasn’t the New York I knew.”

Bucky was looking at him intently, a shadow of something over his face. He clapped a hand over Steve’s shoulder and squeezed. “That’s rough,” he said.

Steve shrugged. “For a while it was crushing. I didn’t go outside for weeks, couldn’t face the sounds, the crowds, the lights. But I got used to it. Turns out the twenty-first century isn’t so bad. If nothing else the food is a lot better.”

Bucky didn’t respond; he just stood there with his hand on Steve’s shoulder, so warm and comforting that Steve remembered how much he’d missed Bucky. How much it had hurt when he’d lost him. That Bucky was here, now, seemed like a second chance.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he told him. “But I’m sorry too.”

*

When they landed in New York, Steve held Bucky back. 

“I should warn you, some things are the same but it won’t be like you remember it.”

Even with Steve’s caution, Bucky still looked shell-shocked when they stepped onto the street. They climbed into the SHIELD issued vehicle and joined the traffic heading south. As soon as they hit their home borough Bucky began to peer out the window with intent.

Steve knew what he was doing.

Outside Steve’s apartment building they came to a stop. Bucky looked at him quizzically. “This is where you live?” he asked. It was an old warehouse complex, rebuilt in the early two thousands to satisfy the growing demand for upmarket housing in Brooklyn. Steve wasn’t proud of the fact that he lived here exactly, but the place was roomy and quiet, and had a view out over the entire east side of Brooklyn. Plus, it was one of the only residential sites deemed “secure” enough by SHIELD.

“I don’t stay here much,” Steve explained as they made their way up the stairs. “Work means I gotta be in DC most of the time.”

“Work?” Bucky said as Steve unlocked the door. 

The door opened, and Steve led the way inside. In the doorway Bucky stopped short. “Whoa,” he said. “This sure beats that shoebox you used to call home.”

“Hey, I liked that shoebox,” Steve retorted, throwing his duffel bag on the couch. 

“That makes one of us.” Bucky gave himself a tour of Steve’s apartment. When he got to the bedroom he whistled. “That’s your bed? Jesus, Steve, it’s the size of a car.”

Steve pulled the instant coffee out of the pantry and began to boil water. “Yeah. Thought an upgrade might be nice.”

“Remember that tiny bed you had back home? I used to sleep dangling off the edge if I ever stayed over. You hogged the bed like you were twice as big as you were.”

Steve did remember. Those sticky nights in summer, and the freezing nights in winter when Bucky would sleep with his arms around Steve to keep him warm. Yes, Steve remembered those nights well.

“I always said you could sleep on the floor,” Steve said. “But you were too stuck-up for that.”

Bucky laughed. “Very funny, Rogers. Like you ever slept on the floor at my place.”

Steve had to fight back a blush at that. He rolled his eyes instead. “Your floor had fleas.”

“Whatever, pal,” Bucky shot back. “Is that coffee ready yet or what?”

They sat on opposite ends of the couch and drank their coffee. Bucky slapped his mug down on the table when he’d finished and sighed. “That was honestly worse than any coffee I’ve ever tasted,” he said. “And that’s saying something. I thought you said the food was better in the future.”

“Hm,” Steve intoned. “Coffee’s still terrible.”

“Great.” Bucky dropped his head against the back of the sofa and winced; he massaged the top of his injured arm.

“Arm bothering you?” Steve asked.

“It’s fine,” he lied. 

But Steve drew him a bath anyway; he helped him undress and steadied him as he lowered himself into the tub. The steam curled around him like a halo and Steve forced himself not to stare at Bucky’s body for too long. He had severe muscle wastage and numerous bruises and scars, but Steve still wanted to look.

To distract himself he handed Bucky the soap. It smelt like peppermint and Bucky sniffed it warily. “Smells like my toothpaste,” he said doubtfully. Steve grinned.

“Like you ever brush your teeth.”

Bucky flicked his wet fingers at Steve in retaliation. Steve jumped back out of reach, but he peeked his head back in just before shutting the door. “Yell if you need anything, all right?”

Bucky, who had already reclined against the wall of the tub, nodded sleepily. “Thanks, Steve,” he murmured. 

And Steve, who still couldn’t quite believe Bucky was here, walked away with a warmth in his chest he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

*

When Bucky emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, freshly shaven and pink from the hot water, Steve gestured to the bedroom. “You can take my bed,” he told him.

Bucky’s expression grew perplexed. “Steve, there’s room in that bed for about four people, and you want to sleep on the couch?”

“It’s just temporary. I’ll buy another bed soon, seeing as you’re gonna be staying here.”

But Bucky just furrowed his brow. “Or we could both sleep in the gigantic bed. I don’t get it… is there something wrong with it?”

Steve shook his head, and, unable to come up with a good reason why not, agreed. “Fine,” he said. “But you better not steal all the blankets.”

Relieved by this, Bucky visibly relaxed. “Last I checked you were the blanket hog between us.”

Despite the situation, Steve grinned. He went into the bathroom, still steaming, to brush his teeth, and when he came out, Bucky was already lying spread-eagled on the mattress. He looked at Steve accusingly when he entered the bedroom. “Your bed’s like a military issue stretcher bed, Steve. I’ve slept on more comfortable rocks. You seriously couldn’t have gotten something with a little more give?”

Steve stripped off his t-shirt and shrugged. “Guess I just got used to sleeping on the ground. Can’t sleep on soft beds anymore.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Steve could feel Bucky’s eyes on him as he wandered across the room, folding his clothes and putting them away. “All those times we had to sleep on stretchers and concrete and frickin’ moss if we were lucky. Every night I just wished for one thing, and that was a goddamn comfortable bed. Hell, I woulda taken your rickety old bed over all that. But something that you could really sink into, God, yeah, that’s all I wanted.” Bucky shifted his weight on the bed and hissed when he moved his arm too quickly. “Even that hospital bed was better than this.”

Steve threw a clean pair of socks at Bucky and hit him square in the face. “Hey!” he yelped. 

“Quit complaining,” Steve told him. “At least it hasn’t got fleas.”

But Bucky wasn’t placated. He shifted position constantly until Steve finally fell asleep, only to wake again in the middle of the night to find Bucky lying on his back, eyes staring at the ceiling. 

“Buck?” Steve murmured. “You all right?”

Bucky sighed quietly. “I can’t sleep, Stevie,” he whispered. 

And Steve knew: he only called Steve that when he was feeling vulnerable, when he needed something but was too proud to ask for it. Steve didn’t say anything; he sat up in bed and piled pillows up against the wall, then he pulled Bucky up and against his chest. Bucky fell into Steve’s embrace easily: they used to do this after Azzano, when Bucky woke with nightmares. 

Steve curved his arms around Bucky, careful to avoid jostling his arm. When they were settled, Bucky sighed with contentment. “Thanks,” he said, so quietly Steve almost didn’t hear.

“Any time,” he replied.

“I miss your old bed.”

Steve’s heart clenched; he buried his face in Bucky’s hair. It smelt like peppermint. “I know,” he said gently. “Me too.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm still hurtin' from Steve's face in the new Endgame teaser.

In the morning Steve made them both coffee and sat Bucky down on the couch. “There’s one more, kinda important thing you should know about the twenty-first century,” he said. “The world is connected by this thing called the internet.” Steve struggled to find the words to describe it. “It’s like an invisible web. Actually that’s what they call it sometimes – the web.”

 

Bucky blinked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Steve.”

 

“Yeah, ok, just bear with me.” Steve sighed. “You know how I told you about texting? And how you can send a message to someone on the other side of the world instantly.”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Well it’s like that. Only… bigger. You can send messages, pictures. There’s this whole universe out there that anyone can access. Every scrap of knowledge humans have ever found is on there. You can find out anything you want literally with the click of a button. Here, I’ll show you.” Steve pulled out his phone and opened Google. “Say I want to find out about the coffee. Well, all I have to do is type coffee into here and…”

 

Bucky sat forward, eyes widening. “That’s…”

 

“I know.” Steve handed Bucky his phone. “Here.”

 

It took Bucky a little while to get used to the touchscreen, but soon he was typing about as well as Steve. ‘Dinosaur’ pace, as Sam would call it.

 

He’d typed in ‘Steve Rogers’.

 

By the time Steve registered, it was too late. “Uh,” he said, as the videos began to surface. “That’s the other big thing I probably should have mentioned.”

 

Bucky opened the first video. It was amateur footage of the attack on New York, shot from a cell phone but clear enough to make out the huge alien crashing through the streets, and to see Steve battling it out with five combatants, Natasha at his back.

 

“What in the hell,” Bucky said. “Tell me this isn’t real.”

 

Steve winced. “It’s real,” he told him. “Aliens are also real, and generally speaking, pretty hostile.”

 

“So that’s what you meant when you said ‘work’.”

 

“More or less.”

 

“Christ.” Bucky slumped back against the couch cushions, stunned into silence. He watched the video to the end, but Steve had to help him figure out how to exit out of it. He clicked on another one, this time a news bulletin about the attack; the TV anchor appeared mildly panicked while talking over helicopter footage of the event. She gasped when one of the other helicopters was knocked out of the sky, then it cut to Steve ushering civilians to safety, his mask and uniform covered in blood and muck.

 

Bucky watched a third video, this one from a few weeks later. In this one a passionate speaker condemned the Avengers for leaving such destruction in their wake. “ _Captain America_ _should be ashamed_ ,” he yelled at his interviewer. “ _Where are the Avengers now_?”

 

Bucky’s reaction was instant; he tossed the phone away in disgust and Steve only just managed to catch it. “What the hell?” he said, still glaring at the device now safely in Steve’s hand. “You saved them and they’re giving you hell?”

 

“Not everyone,” Steve said. “But, yeah, a lot of people weren’t happy.”

 

“They would have never let anyone say that about you before,” Bucky pointed out.

 

Steve shrugged. “Maybe not. But that’s the thing about the internet. Everyone has a platform. You can say almost anything you want: truth, lies, opinions, facts, speculation, rumours… whatever. There’s no regulation, barely any rules.”

 

“A free for all.”

 

“Sorta.”

 

“Sounds like the worst idea ever.”

 

Steve laughed. “I think it’s a good thing, actually. But… it has its problems.”

 

“Like people badmouthing America’s hero.”

 

The indignation in Bucky’s voice made him smile. “I can handle it, Buck. Besides, there are plenty of other heroes around to take some of the heat.”

 

“Like that girl you were fightin’ with.”

 

“Natasha. She helped me get you outta that Hydra base. She’s not exactly ‘super’ but she’s the strongest fighter I know.”

 

Bucky quirked his eyebrows. “Are you and her…?”

 

It took Steve a minute to figure out what Bucky meant. “No,” he said. “We’re friends. Besides, I…” he stopped, unable to form the right words. Bucky glanced at him curiously, but Steve shook his head. “Never mind.”

 

Bucky didn’t push, though Steve half expected him to ask if he’d found himself a nice twenty-first century girl yet.

 

There was another conversation they needed to have. And soon. But Steve wasn’t ready for that just yet.

 

“I think I need another coffee,” Bucky declared, and Steve’s shoulders relaxed. “I’m guessing coffee making is something that hasn’t changed in the last seventy years?”

 

Steve laughed. “Oh, you have no idea,” he said. “Lucky for you I still make mine like a caveman.”

 

While Bucky made a pot, Steve used his phone to order a new mattress.

 

He ticked the same day delivery option.

 

Then he replied to a text from Sam ( _how are you two dinosaurs getting on_?)

 

_Just fine, thanks. Guess I knew more about this twenty-first century stuff than I thought._

 

Sam texted back soon after: [ _dinosaur emoji; computer emoji; confused emoji_ ].

 

Steve rolled his eyes and did not dignify that with a response.

 

*

 

Afterwards Bucky insisted on going out.

 

Alone.

 

Steve, though it twisted him up with worry, didn’t argue. He knew how much Bucky needed to see the world for himself. To walk the streets of his home and try to connect the Brooklyn he knew to the Brooklyn of the future. There were many things that were the same – Steve had mapped them all himself. But so much was different. Some entire streets were unrecognisable.

 

Bucky, at least, knew how cold New York could be at this time of year, and he took the parka Steve offered him before disappearing out the door. Steve watched him cross the street in front of the apartment building, kept watching until he vanished around a street corner.

 

Hours passed. The mattress was delivered and Steve busied himself with replacing the old one with the new and remaking the bed.

 

He tried not to think about how they had slept last night, curled together like they had done so many times in the past. They had never talked about it, but the world had grown up since then, and Steve didn’t think they could ignore it this time.

 

They couldn’t pretend that it was just the affection of brotherhood that made them gravitate towards one another.

 

Bucky returned just before sundown. He shut the door behind him and leant his weight against it, sinking down to the floor and hiding his face in his knees.

 

Steve went to him immediately. He crouched down and placed his hand over Bucky’s shoulder blade. Bucky’s sobs were quiet and breathless, and when he was done he sank against Steve, exhausted.

 

Steve hugged him, then he led him into the bathroom, and in a repeat of the previous day, ran the water for a bath and helped Bucky to remove his clothes. Once Bucky was settled in the water, head tipped back over the side, arm hooked over the edge of the tub to stay dry, Steve stood to leave.

 

But Bucky held him back. “Please stay,” he murmured.

 

The decision was an easy one. Steve nodded and sat on the stool beside the bath. “Of course, Buck,” he said. “I’ll be right here.”

 

Bucky peered up at him, his face still pale and eyes rimmed with red. “Don’t go changing on me,” he pleaded.

 

Steve smiled; he cradled Bucky’s jaw in his palm. “Never,” he said.

 

Bucky closed his eyes and sighed. He tilted his head an inch towards Steve’s hand.

 

“I’m right here,” Steve repeated. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

*

 

That night Bucky slept like a log and Steve was the one who lay awake. He couldn’t blame the mattress, for he’d bought one with dual firmness: soft memory foam for Bucky’s side, extra firm for Steve’s.

 

No, his sleeplessness could only be attributed to the man next to him, whose face was a mask of peace, whose chest rose and fell with gentle breaths. Steve lay on his side, watching Bucky, tracing the contour of his face with his eyes.

 

Before, he’d never allowed his thoughts to stray this far: to do so was dangerous. But that fear was gone now, the world had moved on.

 

Steve still remembered the moment he’d discovered this for himself. It was in DC and he’d seen two men crossing the street holding hands. Nat had laughed at the look of shock on his face.

 

“I never took you for prejudiced,” she’d teased.

 

Since then Steve had learned a lot about the gay rights movement: the battles that had been won, and the battles still being fought. It was hard to believe, sometimes, that he could embrace that part of himself without fear of persecution.

 

And now that Bucky was here…

 

Well.

 

He wanted so badly to share that joy with him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, but good.
> 
> I know I haven't replied to anyone's comments yet - I'm sorry! Please know that they fill me with happiness.

Bucky spent the next two weeks spinning between overwhelmed and excited. All the new technology was a marvel to him, but memories of what he’d left behind were everywhere. He spent hours on Steve’s phone, googling anything he could think of. He read pages and pages about his sister, about the end of the war, about the alien attack on NYC. Frankly Steve was impressed with how quickly Bucky got the hang of the technology; it had taken Steve months and he still typed like a dinosaur.

On one particularly cold day Steve found Bucky on his back on the couch, staring at the ceiling with Steve’s phone held limply over his chest.

Steve retrieved the phone from Bucky’s relaxed grip and unlocked it. He’d been reading an article about McCarthyism.

“There’s so much to catch up on,” Bucky said, turning his head to look at Steve. “How can I possibly learn everything?”

Steve put the phone down on the coffee table. “Honestly, you can’t. At least not all at once. There’s a lot I still don’t know, but the world lets you live in it whether you know its history or not.”

“Yeah.” Bucky sighed. “But the world is what it is today because of what happened while we were asleep.”

The truth of that hit Steve hard. It must have shown in his expression because Bucky reached his hand out and touched Steve’s knee. “What is it?” he asked. 

Steve smiled. “It’s just… there are some things I want you to know. Purely for selfish reasons,” he added, grinning as he felt warmth rush to his face.

Bucky looked at him quizzically. “Like what?”

But the words Steve needed wouldn’t come; every variation of what he wanted to say seemed either too blunt or too melodramatic. After several minutes of silence, he finally picked his phone up again and opened up a news article from 2015. Bucky waited patiently as Steve struggled to sum up the courage to show it to him.

“Steve,” Bucky said gently. 

Steve smiled, though in truth he was nervous. He shuffled a little further away and leant his back against the armchair, then he handed Bucky the phone. 

At first Bucky didn’t react, then his brow furrowed, and continued to furrow as he scrolled; he sat up straight and bent his head over the tiny screen. Steve held his breath as he watched him read, his hearting pounding much faster than it had any right to.

At last Bucky reached the end of the article, but Steve saw him scroll back to the top and read the headline again. And again.

When he looked at Steve his expression was unreadable.

“This is real?” he said, a hint of a tremor in his voice.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, Buck, it’s real.”

Bucky looked back at the phone, at the pictures of grinning people dressed in bright colours and proudly holding rainbow flags above their heads, at the Whitehouse illuminated by rainbow lights, at the signs proclaiming that love is love, and an image of two elderly women brandishing their new marriage certificate as they kissed.

Bucky put the phone down. He got up and left.

*

Steve was folding laundry when Bucky came back – a mundane job for a superhero, but one that had to be done. Once Bucky had shut the door he caught Steve’s eye and quirked his lips in a smile. 

“Hey,” Steve said. 

“Sorry for bolting on you like that,” Bucky said.

Steve shrugged. “I figured you needed some time to process.”

Bucky made his way to the table on which Steve was sorting his clothes. He pointed to a pile of Steve’s socks. “You still wear socks from the nineteen hundreds,” he said.

Steve laughed. “Socks haven’t changed that much, believe it or not.”

Bucky fiddled with the detailing on one of the wooden dining chairs, eyes downcast. “Guess that’s one thing that I can count on.”

“You can count on me,” Steve said almost automatically; he dropped the t-shirt he was holding and stepped closer to Bucky. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Bucky’s jaw clicked; he was fighting something back. “I know, pal.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “What you showed me today. About…” he trailed off, steeled himself, then said, “Gay marriage. It shocked me.”

Steve nodded and waited for Bucky to continue. “I spend all my life fighting that.” Finally he lifted his gaze to Steve’s face. “Wishing that wasn’t me. Hoping I’d become something else. And…” He smiled for a brief second. “Knowing we were the same and that…” He faltered and frowned.

“That we had something,” Steve offered. “Something good.”

Bucky sucked in a breath and nodded. “But we could never…”

“I know.”

They stood in silence for a little while, then Steve moved into Bucky’s space; he pulled him into an embrace. Bucky sank into it and folded his uninjured arm around Steve’s waist. “We can now, if we want,” Steve said gently. “It’s not a big deal anymore. It’s accepted… hell, it’s legal.”

Bucky laughed into Steve’s shoulder and hugged him tighter. “Things really have changed,” he whispered. “But I’m glad we’re still the same.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happiness is a warm snuggle.

After that things progressed slowly. They still slept in the same bed and sat close together on the couch, but it was two weeks before they kissed for the first time.

In those weeks Bucky had learned a whole lot more about the new century; he had ventured out to visit almost every borough in New York, trying to come to terms with everything that had changed. Tony sent him a phone in the mail and Bucky took to it like a seal to water; he even started taking photographs of the streets and comparing them with old pictures he found online. 

There were days when the new reality was too much for Bucky and Steve had to soothe him back into calmness with gentle touches, but most days he was fine just figuring it out for himself. He loved all the new technology and was especially excited when he discovered something that one of his favourite sci-fi novelists had written about and had since become a reality.

But sooner than he’d have liked, Steve was called away on a mission. 

The day before he was set to leave, Bucky was a little more affectionate than usual.

“I’ll only be gone a few days,” Steve assured him. They were tangled together on the beige coloured couch, Bucky’s head resting on Steve’s shoulder. “You won’t even miss me.”

Bucky huffed. “I’ll miss you,” he said. “The first night after I shipped out I missed you so goddamn much, didn’t know how I was gonna survive deployment without you. There were no phones then, I couldn’t even contact you without sending a letter.”

Steve hummed and pressed his lips to the top of Bucky’s head. “I remember,” he said. “I nearly had a panic attack that night.”

Bucky tensed and gripped Steve’s arm a little tighter. 

“’Cept I knew I’d be seeing you soon,” Steve added, grinning.

“You were such a stubborn ass,” Bucky chided. “Still are.”

Steve threaded a hand through Bucky’s hair and massaged his scalp, earning a whimper of happiness from Bucky. 

Soon after, Bucky began to relax; he sank right into Steve’s arms, almost asleep. Chuckling, Steve lifted Bucky’s chin so he could look at his face. Bucky blinked sleepily and smiled. “Hey,” he said. 

And that’s when Steve leaned in and pressed their lips together. It was only for a second but Steve’s heart sped up all the same and he heard Bucky suck in a breath of surprise when they pulled apart. 

“Oh,” Bucky said. He looked uncertain, almost fearful. “For a moment I thought…” He paused, then he brought their lips together again and kissed with a little more intention. 

Steve was about to burst. He put his hand on Bucky’s jaw, then brushed the hair away from his eyes. “It’s all right,” he said. 

Bucky nodded and grinned sheepishly. “I think I like this new century,” he said, touching his fingertips to Steve’s temple. 

“Good,’ Steve said. “I think it likes you too.”

Huffing, Bucky kissed Steve again, and again. Soon Steve was dizzy with it; he turned his face away, panting, grinning, bursting with love and affection. Bucky snuggled right back into his chest, a matching smile on his face. They stayed like that until Bucky’s arm began to hurt from the position, and then they stumbled into bed and fell asleep curled around one another like bear cubs in a den.

*

The mission went well, but Steve returned home with his fair share of scrapes and bruises. The moment he opened the door, Bucky was there, surveying the damage, cursing at whoever had hurt him.

Steve chuckled at Bucky’s attention and distracted him by leaning in for a kiss. “Still lookin’ out for me,” Steve murmured when they pulled apart.

Bucky sighed and wrapped his arms around Steve. “Is this what it’s going to be like?” he said into Steve’s neck.

“You know I can’t sit by and do nothing, Buck.”

Bucky was quiet for a while, then he said, “Feel like I should be out there, helping.”

“You’ve done more than enough,” Steve said gently. “You don’t need to fight anymore.”

Bucky sagged against him while Steve rubbed his back. He shook with some suppressed emotion and then he was back to himself. “I’ll run you a bath,” he told Steve. “You smell like the trenches.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve followed Bucky to the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bath while the tub filled. Bucky brought him a towel and a bathrobe and candle that smelled like cedar wood. Steve laughed when he saw it. “Pretty sure Nat bought that for me as a joke,” he explained.

But Bucky just shrugged and lit it, filling the room with a sweet woody aroma. “Smells good,” he said. Steve had to agree.

When the bath was full Steve stripped out of his rumpled clothes and sank into the water with a blissful sigh. Bucky stood to leave, but Steve reached out his hand and held him back. “Why don’t you join me?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Bucky was completely still for what felt like a full minute, and Steve began to stutter out an apology when Bucky shushed him. He shook off Steve’s hand, pulled off his clothes and stepped into the other side of the bath. Wordlessly, Steve leant back against one side of the tub and gestured to the space in between his legs. Bucky slipped into it easily, his hips bracketed by Steve’s knees, and rested his head on Steve’s chest. 

The warmth of the water and Bucky’s body made Steve immediately drowsy. He curved his arms around Bucky and closed his eyes. There was, somewhere in the vicinity of his spine, a curl of sexual interest, but for now Steve was content to lie with Bucky, to feel his closeness and allow himself to enjoy it.

*

Most days Steve couldn’t quite believe that Bucky was there, shuffling around the apartment in grey sweatpants, making pots of coffee and staring at his phone as if he were a true millennial. 

He just seemed to fit so easily into the world, and the world seemed to embrace him too. Natasha dropped in one day on the pretence of informing Steve about an upcoming mission, although Steve knew she was really there to meet Bucky for herself, to understand what kept Steve in Brooklyn even when the rest of his world was in DC. 

Steve left them alone in the living room for two minutes, and when he returned they were laughing like old pals. At Steve’s expense, he was certain. After that they were easy friends and Steve found himself feeling a stab of delight every time he caught Bucky texting her. She seemed to help Bucky with acclimatising to his new situation, and Steve loved that his friends could be Bucky’s too.

Likewise, although Sam hadn’t yet had a chance to meet Bucky, he still sent Steve a lot of supportive texts and the occasional emoji-based message that Steve could pretty much never decipher, although they almost always included dinosaurs.

Although being back in New York brought its own challenges, being with Bucky almost all of the time was easy, like falling back into old habits. 

Steve had always been a believer in God, and even though he hadn’t been to church in nearly a century, he was sure this was a miracle sent from Heaven. 

In any case, the smile on Bucky’s face each morning they woke tangled together looked more like a miracle than anything else Steve had witnessed in his life.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finito! Thanks to everyone who's been following along; it was fun.

“Fuck, I’m so nervous.” Bucky tugged at his tie and ran his hand through his hair, thoroughly messing it up. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

They were in California, the palm-studded streets of Palo Alto speeding past the car window as they swept onto the Stanford Campus. Steve took Bucky’s hand in his and squeezed. “It’s gonna be fine, Buck. She can’t wait to meet you.”

Bucky didn’t appear to be placated. He turned his head to look out the window, jiggling his knee up and down and staring at the glass. Soon they were pulling into the car park; Steve got out and circled the bonnet so he could open Bucky’s door. Bucky’s face was pale and he looked at Steve pleadingly. “I feel sick,” he said. Steve grinned and offered him his hand again. 

“C’mon,” he said. “We don’t want to be late.”

When Bucky was out of the car and standing, Steve wrapped his arm around his shoulders and walked him towards the lecture theatre. “Why are you so nervous, Buck?” he asked. “You know she’s gonna love you.”

“I don’t know,” Bucky confessed. “I guess it just feels important. She knew Becca for longer than I did; she was there for her when even I couldn’t be. It’s like… she’s a part of my family I never knew existed. And now I have to meet her and… fuck.” Bucky sighed. “I can’t really explain it.”

Steve nodded. “I understand,” he said. “When I found out Peggy was still alive when I came out of the ice… I was so nervous to see her. Nearly puked in the bathroom next to her room.”

Bucky snorted. “Charming,” he said, then he grew sombre again. “That musta been hard, seeing her like that.”

But Steve shrugged. “It was… and it wasn’t. I was just so glad that I had a chance to see her again. She’d moved on long ago, but I still loved her. Age didn’t change that.”

Bucky smiled and nudged Steve gently. “I’m sure she never forgot you.”

They had reached the entrance; other people were arriving and were sending curious glances their way. Steve dropped his arm and took Bucky’s hand instead. “Ready?” he asked.

Bucky nodded and stepped inside, Steve right beside him. They took the seats that had been reserved for them at the front and Steve made a note of all the exits while Bucky cast anxious glances around for Hilde, even though they weren’t planning to meet her until after the lecture.

Soon the packed theatre quietened and a man in dark blue suit came to stand in front of the audience. He cleared his throat, glanced for a very brief second at Bucky, and then began to speak.

“Every two years we gather here to celebrate one of the brightest minds Stanford University has ever had the pleasure of teaching. She was a pioneer in the field of engineering science, and as citizens of today’s world we have a lot to thank her for. I am speaking of course, of Doctor Rebecca Barnes Proctor. 

“Awarded her doctorate in 1960, Rebecca went on to pursue ground-breaking research into systems management and design alongside her research partner, Hilde Johansson. Together they revolutionised the world of engineering science and paved the way for a more efficient and sustainable future. 

“Rebecca went on to do more ground-breaking research and delivered countless lectures around the country. She fought patriarchal ideologies that tried to suppress her knowledge and skills, and she was known for her scathing retorts that sent even the most brazen of men scattering.”

There was a twittering among the audience and Bucky huffed. “Sounds about right,” he muttered under his breath.

“But in 1969, having watched the Stonewall Riots play out on the news, Rebecca knew there was more she needed to do. She put on hold the career she had fought so hard to build and became a leader in the fight for LGBTQ+ rights. In 1971 she announced that she was married to her long-time friend and partner, Hilde Johansson, despite the fact that homosexuality was still considered illegal at this time.

“Her newfound platform gained her many new enemies, but also made her a hero of the movement. She was lauded for her bravery, and didn’t stop fighting until her death at age seventy-five in 2005. She is survived by her partner, Hilde, who is here tonight.”

There was a smattering of applause and a few joyous cheers before the room fell silent again.

“Tonight we honour her memory, and all the good she gave to our world. But we also honour those who will continue her legacy. Our speaker tonight is one such person, PhD student and winner of the Barnes Proctor Scholarship – Nasreen Jalil. Welcome, Nasreen.”

There were a few more woops of support while everyone applauded. Nasreen took to the lectern and shuffled her notes. Soon she was deep into what Steve had to admit was an extremely confounding but also fascinating lecture on the intricacies of medical systems and their implicit biases. The talk lasted for about an hour, with ten minutes for questions. Then it was over and the room broke out into loud applause, which soon faded as people began to move out of their seats. 

Steve looked at Bucky, who had regained his nervousness and was tapping his foot again. “Shall we go meet her?” he asked, gently laying his hand on Bucky’s arm.

Bucky swallowed but nodded. They made their way to the front of the room where the professor who had given the introductory speech was talking to a grey-haired woman wearing a knitted sweater and earrings in the shape of tigers.

“Ah,” said the professor as they approached. “You must be James Barnes.” He shook Bucky’s hand, then turned to Steve. “And Captain Rogers, it’s a pleasure.”

Steve smiled. “Steve,” he corrected.

“You must be dying to chat,” he said. “I’ll leave you three alone. I hope you enjoyed the lecture.”

And with that he vanished in amongst the students milling around, all holding glasses of red wine and chatting animatedly to one another. 

“Well, if it isn’t Bucky Barnes,” said Hilde, reaching out to grasp Bucky by both arms. “My, you are handsome. Tell me, what’s the secret? Colloidal silver? Botox? Water from the fountain of youth?”

Bucky stood frozen. “Um,” he said.

But Hilde was already laughing. “I’m just joking,” she said. “I’m a bit cheeky, you know.”

“Oh,” Bucky grinned, suddenly sheepish. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said.

Hilde smiled at him fondly. “I’m so glad to meet you, too,” she said. “I wonder what Becca would say if she saw us. Me an old crone, you a dashing young man.” She tsked. “What a strange world we live in.”

“I don’t understand it myself,” Bucky said. 

Hilde surveyed him kindly. “It’s more than you should have to bear,” she said. “Thrust into a world entirely different from the one you knew.”

Bucky began to tear up and Steve moved a little closer, not touching, just letting Bucky know he was there. 

“But you’re lucky too,” she added with a smile and a surreptitious glance at Steve. “You’ve been given a second chance at life. Not many of us have that.”

Bucky nodded, valiantly fighting his tears. “I know,” he said. 

“Becca would be happy to know you lived. She would be overjoyed.”

“I wish I could see her one more time,” Bucky whispered. 

Hilde dragged him in for a hug and the dam broke; Bucky sobbed into her shoulder and held her tightly. “She’s still here,” Hilde told him, patting his back. “In every one of us. So many were touched by her words and actions, by her courage. She lives on in everyone who was inspired by her, lifted up by her. She’ll never be forgotten. But I know,” she added, blinking back her own tears. “I miss her too.”

They stood like that for several minutes until Bucky had stopped shuddering, then Hilde let him go and directed him towards Steve, who gathered Bucky into his arms and held him gently. “Becca would be impressed by the fine man you’ve snagged,” she said with a smile on her face. “She always spoke highly of you, Steve.”

Steve nodded his appreciation. “I wish I had known her better,” he said. “She was an amazing woman.”

“That she was,” Hilde agreed. 

“And so are you,” Steve added.

Hilde smiled and shrugged. “I am content with who I am,” she said. “That is enough for me.”

Bucky smiled then; he reached out and took Hilde’s hand in his own. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me,” he said. 

“Of course, my dear,” she said. “And I hope we will stay in touch. We are family, you know.” She winked.

Bucky grinned. “I’d like that,” he said. 

They said their goodbyes and Hilde left to speak with Nasreen about her paper. Bucky swayed in Steve’s arms, exhausted. 

“You all right?” Steve asked, rubbing Bucky’s arms.

Bucky nodded. “Tired,” he said. “Can we go home now?”

“’Course, Buck.” Steve led Bucky back outside and into the waiting car. 

They drove back to San Francisco in the dark and Bucky collapsed onto their hotel bed in a heap of emotional exhaustion. Steve helped him undress, tucked the covers over him and lay next to him. “How d’you feel?” Steve asked, rubbing the curve of Bucky’s spine.

Bucky huffed and cuddled closer, nuzzling Steve’s neck. “She’s wonderful,” he said. “Just the person I can imagine Becca falling for.” He laughed. “Did you see her earrings? The tigers? That was Becca’s favourite animal.”

“Becca inspired so many people,” Steve said. “Even Natasha goes starry-eyed when I mention her name.”

“I’m so proud of her,” Bucky murmured. “You know, when she was really little she used to say to me, ‘Bucky, I wanna be like you when I grow up,’ and now I can honestly say that it’s me who wishes I could be like her. How brave she must have been to stand up to all those men, to all that hatred.” He shuddered. “She was braver than I ever was.”

Steve kissed Bucky’s hair. “I know she would be proud of you too,” Steve told him. “You were both determined to do what was right, and damn the consequences. ‘S why you always got punched on my behalf.”

Bucky snorted. “I stood up for you because I loved you, Steve, and I never wanted to see you hurt. Even though you were so damn good at seeking out trouble,” he added with what Steve was pretty sure was an eye-roll, though he couldn’t actually see Bucky’s face. 

“Still,” Steve argued. “She would be proud of you.”

Bucky didn’t contest the point any further; he wrapped himself around Steve and soon fell asleep. In the quiet of the room Steve could almost make out his heartbeat, slow and steady, persistent and miraculous like the lapping of waves upon the shore.

In this life, and the previous, and in each one to come, Bucky would be there by his side.


End file.
